10th November 2024, Rememberance Sunday

Today is the second Sunday in November and Rememberance Sunday here in the UK.  Services will be taking place and we hope people will stop and remember those who gave their lives, and their youth,  so that we could grow old and live the lives we have.

My own parents lived through WW2, my grandparents through WW1.  I often count my blessings that I haven't had the same experiences that they had.  As an older person,  I can begin to understand, now, why they were so scarred.  

I remember one of my grandfathers only as old man that sat in a chair, grumbling.  After some Genealogy Research,  and reading his service record,  I understand what an extraordinary man he was.  He had experiences that I can't begin to imagine. 

My own parents too did their part to protect their country,  and paid a high price for it.  Teachers at the schools I attended as a child were also scarred, both physically and mentally.  My English Literature O Level included WW1 poetry.   I don't doubt,  from an early age that my understanding of war was deeply affected by those words.  I wore the CND badge on my hessian school shoulder bag.

I remember seeing my father cry as he watched the news unfolding over the years.   Finally, I understand why.  There simply shouldn't be wars in the 21st Century. 

These days I am the one with tears as I watch the news.  Children!  Children should not be having these experiences.  Wherever they are, whatever their nationality or religion.   They should be safe.  How are babies being born in war zones in 2024.  It's like we've learnt nothing. 

So many WW1 poets wrote about the horrors.  Their words are bitter, haunted and so so sad.  Whether for their own therapy or to document their experiences for others, the words are hard to read.  I imagine some people have never glanced at them.  I know people that say they no longer watch the news.  Their words are often difficult to understand,  it's a lifetime away.  And yet, we need to remember them.

A link to WW1 Poetry

I've read through many of these poems this morning.  The words are horrifying.   Impossible to imagine unless you are experiencing them for real.  How heartbreaking that so many are.

And yet, I found this poem about freedom and a desire to end war.

Everyone Sang by Siegfried Sassoon

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;

And I was filled with such delight

As prisoned birds must find in freedom,

Winging wildly across the white.

Orchards and dark green fields; on - on and out of sight.

Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted;

And beauty came like the setting sun:

Drifted away …O, but Everyone

Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

My heart was shaken with tears and horror

I hope I’ve understood the poem correctly.

So let's be thankful for so many things.  For food, for warmth, for health, and for life.

Let's, please, pause for two minutes on the 11th hour of 11th day of the 11th Month to remember them.

Let's be thankful for what for have.

❤️